


We Don't Have Each Other

by KT517



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Divorce, Just Bear With Me, M/M, Mental Illness, Road Trip, THIS IS A DEANCAS FIC, also, dean/benny is a major part of the beginning, i already uploaded this fic but i took it down, i've made major edits, running away from all of those problems, smoking as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KT517/pseuds/KT517
Summary: Dean Winchester has shut down. Since the death of his father, Dean has been the shell of the man he once was. And Benny knew it. Now that Benny is long gone and Dean is left to his own devices, he embarks on an impromptu road trip through the American South to rediscover himself and mend his broken heart. Lucky for Dean, a trenchcoated stranger stumbles across his path looking for adventure and a new version of himself.
Relationships: Benny/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Our Apartment

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Don't Have Each Other](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/629194) by Aaron West & the Roaring Twenties. 



> Hello everyone!! So, here's the deal. This story may seem familiar and that is because the first 3 chapters were already uploaded with some things switched around. I wanted to take this story is a different direction so I deleted and we're starting over! Like I said, if you happened to read the original 3 chapters, you will notice a few things are different. If you're new Hi Welcome I'm so glad you're here. I promise I am going to try to stick to a once a week schedule until I actually complete this thing. I'll have more on that later. 
> 
> If you are unaware, this fic will be loosely based on the album We Don't Have Each Other by Aaron West & the Roaring Twenties. Go give it a listen if you feel so inclined.
> 
> Thank you guys so so much for bearing with me through all of this. I hope I'll be able to make it worth your while.

" _But I've got my doubts_

_You're staying at your parents' house._

_Well I'm sleeping on the couch_

_I can't stand our bed without you."_

Dean was not ready for the burst of cold air that hit him as he opened the door leading out of his apartment building and into the bustling streets of Brooklyn. He had grown used to the dim lights and the rattling of the radiator in the apartment. He had gotten off of the old couch only to use the bathroom and heat up a Poptart in the microwave that had come with the place. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the sunlight – he stopped keeping track once he realized that the door wasn’t going to open again after it had been slammed shut all those nights ago…. It had to have been at least two weeks.

Fuck, he was so messed up. There didn’t seem to be a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel that Dean had realized was his new life. A life without happiness. A life without fingers intertwined underneath the blanket on the couch at midnight on a Tuesday. A life without bare feet on the bathroom tile as they fought for more room in front of the mirror as they brushed their teeth in the morning, elbows knocking together and playful jabs muttered through minty foam. A life without kisses that tasted like fruity cake batter as a new cake recipe was being tested out in the over.

A life without Benny.

Dean hadn’t even realized that he had arrived at the diner he was supposed to meet Andrea at. Dean had ignored her texts for as long as he could, but nothing could stop the nagging of hope he felt that maybe, just maybe, Benny would be with her so they could all talk together.

His hope was crushed when he saw the back of Andrea’s head with no trace of Benny in sight. Dead could barely look her in the eyes as he sat down opposite her in the booth, a cup of coffee already waiting for him on the table. He signed into the cup as the hot drink touched his lip. It felt good to have something other than PopTarts, which he really needed to get more of before he went home.

Dean managed to look up at Andrea, who was eyeing him with a soft, yet pained expression on her face. “How’re you holding up?” Dean could tell she was nervous.

He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “How do you think it’s going? He hasn’t come back. Hell, he won’t even answer my calls or texts.” Dean felt his eyes brimming with tears but he refused to break in front of Andrea. Benny’s sister. Fuck. Dean’s insides curled with envy at the realization that Andrea was probably getting to talk to Benny every day since he left.

Andrea frowned, lines etching themselves into her forehead, and her grip tightened around her mug. She looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how she wanted to go about it. After a few, stained second, she finally got to the point that Dean had gotten off of his spot on the couch for.

“Benny is, uh. He’s called the lawyers.”  
“Is that what he told you?” Dean coughed. “Fuck. I fucked it up. Again. God, I can’t lose him. Is he going to at least come back to get his shit?”

Andrea shook her head, her eyes downward. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I’ve tried to get him to talk to you. He says he’s done and that everything he needed to say was in the note he left.” She sighed. “I don’t know what he’s thinking, Dean. But I know it’s bad.”

The two stared at each other. Dean could feel his cheeks heating up from the emotions he was feeling boiling to the surface. Anger at himself. Embarrassment that he even had to speak to Andrea about this. Hurt. Hurt was the one he had grown most familiar with these past few months. He would have done things so much differently had he known this was how his life would end up after his dad had passed. Dean missed his dad. He would know what to say to make him feel better. He would know how he could get Benny back.

A waitress had come over during Dean’s moment of reflection. He vaguely heard Andrea ordering a waffle and eggs for herself, and two eggs, sunny-side up, and sausage for him. She had returned to set the food down in front of them and then shuffled away awkwardly, shooting a glance at Andrea as she went.

Dean could only imagine what he looked like. He wore a dirty Buffalo Bills hoodie and jeans that were torn at the knees. His teeth were brushed, but his hair was greasy and uncombed. There were dark circles around his eyes from lack of sleep and all of the tears that had spilled over onto his cheeks. The stubble around his jaw itched as it grew back in in all different directions. Pathetic, was the word that had crossed his mind as he stared at his reflection in the mirror that morning. Disgusting.

Dean was able to tell that Andrea had pitied him. Hell, it was all over her face. He poked at the yolk of one of his eggs with the tip of his fork and watched as the yellow goo flooded his plate. Despite the lack of actual nutrients in Dean’s diet the past few weeks, he wasn’t hungry. The sight of the food in front of him made him nauseous.

Dean let his mind trail to a memory of a year ago, before his dad was diagnosed and before all of the shit had tainted his life and made it the monstrosity that it was today. Benny was in the kitchen but that was nothing new. He had been recognized as one of the City’s Thirty Under Thirty in the chef category. But he didn’t get there without practicing in their apartment’s tiny kitchen with Dean has his sous chef/taste tester. Benny had been trying out a new way to make eggs benedict that morning. Dean was sitting on in one of the uncomfortable barstools that overlooked the kitchen while Benny worked.

“Benny, honey, I think you’ve mixed that sauce enough,” Dean had mused as Benny worked at whisking together a new “better” hollandaise sauce.

“It’s done when I say it is. Now hush, or you don’t get to try it!” Benny drawled and glanced over his shoulder with a smile. It was the kind of smile that made Dean feel the same warmth inside of him that he had felt when they first met all those years ago, and again on his wedding day, and more so on all of the days in between. Dean would never get used to it, not that he wanted to. He rolled his eyes in a playful manner as Benny finally began plating his creation.

Benny brought the breakfast over to Dean and Dean’s stomach rumbled loudly. “Ah ah ah!” Benny had said and brought out his phone to snap at least a hundred pictures that would obviously be uploaded to his Instagram for his thousands of followers to like and comment on. Dean slipped out of the barstool and padded over to Benny, who was still snapping photos with a concentrated look on his face. His arms wrapped around his husband’s waist and Dean planted a kiss on his shoulder.

“Come on, dude. Food is for eating, not for taking pictures of.”

Benny grumbled something out how Dean was wrong and how he had a following to build before his new restaurant opened in mid-town Manhattan. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, nonetheless. They took turns taking bites off of the same fork, Dean going on and on about how good it was, and Benny muttering about how it needs more red pepper flakes. The two had fallen into a pile on their ugly green couch following breakfast and shared sweet kisses while attempting to argue over what to watch on Netflix.

It was a good memory. A memory that Dean was shaken out of by a waitress standing at the foot of the table he shared with Andrea, asking if they wanted more coffee. He sighed and stared at his still uneaten breakfast. Andrea reached across the table and grabbed his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. Our whole family likes you. We all know it’s been a rough year for you. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

Dean pressed his lips into a tight, barely-there smile. He appreciated what Andrea was trying to do but it didn’t help the pain he felt. First his dad, now Benny. God, it was like everyone Dean ever loved was leaving him. He was sure Sammy was going to get tired of his shit and leave one day too. He’d probably deserve it too. He was such a fuckup.

Andrea left money on the table and resigned that she wasn’t going to be getting anything else out of Dean. She pulled him into a tight up and reassured him that she was only a call away if he needed anything. They parted ways and Dean somehow felt emptier inside after their conversation than he had on the way there.

Dean sighed as he walked back into his dingy apartment. Maybe he would try calling Benny again later. Maybe he wouldn’t. He walked back over to the bar where Benny’s note had remained untouched, but well read. Dean picked it up, scanning his eyes over Benny’s messy handwriting that spelled out for Dean that he was done and he needed some time away from Dean. Dean was able to read between the lines though, and he knew Benny wasn’t coming back.

Dean dug his phone out of his pocket. Still nothing. A fit of rage came over him and he threw the outdated iPhone at the wall, watching it explode into tiny pieces on impact. That wasn’t good enough. Dean turned and threw his fist into the drywall with an angry yell. The pain in his now-bruised knuckles slightly distracted him from the dull, aching pain in his chest.

He should probably ice his hand tonight.


	2. Grapefruit

_“Hey, Holy Ghost,_   
_Why’d you leave me? Where’d you go?_   
_Right when I fucking need you,_   
_I’m all alone. I’m all alone”_

Dean was sprawled out on the couch. It had been 17 days since Benny had left. Since the argument that ruined Dean’s life. He was selfish. He knew Benny had to be hurting too. But he couldn’t get past the aching in his chest long enough to worry about anyone else, even Benny. Perhaps that had been why Benny had left in the first place: Dean couldn’t get his shit together long enough to be there when Benny needed him.

Dean took a swig of the beer that was sitting on the coffee table. It had gone lukewarm by then. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care. Hell, alcohol is alcohol, is what he told himself. His place was a fucking dump and even being around all of the clutter added to his anxiety. He knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it though, so what was the point in getting worked up over it? 

He glanced over at the whole in the drywall that he made three days ago, following his meeting with Andrea. Fuck, he definitely wasn’t getting the security deposit back. He knew the other guys at the garage were probably blowing his phone up by now, wondering why he hadn’t shown up to work. Dean exhaled through his nose – the closest he’s come to a laugh in weeks – and looked over to his phone of the floor, spread out into tiny pieces from where he had thrown it against the wall. They knew where he lived if they were that concerned about him, he mused. 

Dean fell back against the arm of the couch with a sigh. He had spent nearly every hour of every day replaying the argument in his head. He remembered how Benny’s face had looked, scrunched up and betrayed, when he looked at Dean while the angry words had flown from his lips. He remembered the way Benny had his fists clenched by his sides as he stood in their bedroom doorway, his jaw set and his eyebrows furrowed. Most of all, he remembered the sadness in Benny’s eyes, his slouched posture like he was carrying triple the sorrow Dean had felt in the last few months. 

It was too much. Dean thought it would start to hurt less the more time he put between himself and that day. He was beginning to find that it was completely useless, every day passing into yet another without Benny by his side. He missed him – God, did he miss him. Dean was unsure if God even gave a fuck about him or his pathetic life anymore, but still, he prayed. Every night before the grips of sleep took him away, Dean prayed that Benny would be returned to him. He would promise God that he would be a better man, that Benny would never question his love again. It was a cruel joke to expect that God would grant his wishes, and he knew it. But that didn’t stop him.

Dean realized that he was alone. If God had ever been with him, he was long gone by then. Maybe Dean just held onto the thought of God to keep the loneliness at bay. All alone was all he’d ever be. If he wasn’t good enough to make Benny happy, he wasn’t good enough for anyone else. 

* * *

  
_Dean knew he was forgetting something. Something important. But from his spot in bed, under the covers, at 10pm on a Tuesday, he was damned if he could remember anything. It was the 4-month anniversary since John Winchester’s passing. Dean was under the impression that time was supposed to heal all wound, or some bullshit like that. But he still felt the hurt and the longing in his heart today as he had at his father’s funeral._

_Dean heard the key in the front door all the way from his bedroom. Benny was finally home. Where did he say he was going again? The grocery store? His parents’ house? It was kind of late for that…_

_Benny walked into the bedroom and looked at Dean, anger and sadness in his usually dark eyes. His shoulders were slouched from where but the look on his face make it known to Dean that he had fucked up. Dean looked at the grapefruit colored tie around his husband’s neck and the wood plaque in his hand._

_Oh fuck._

_Dean sat up quickly, too quickly, and all the blood rushed to his head. “Benny, listen, I’m sorry. I forgot—“_

_“You forgot? You forgot? Dean, I’ve been talking about this non-stop for months! I know these past few months have been rough, but Goddamn, I was so foolish to think that I would have your support tonight,” Benny said, his voice steady but full of heat that was just waiting to boil over. Benny threw the plaque in his hand in front of where Dean was sitting criss-cross on the bed. It read,_

New York Society of Chefs and Cooks  
BEST NEWCOMER CHEF FOR 2019  
BENNY LAFITTE-WINCHESTER

_With a big, fancy looking seal for the New York Society of Chefs and Cooks underneath the inscription._

_Fuck. Benny had won. And he had been too busy wallowing in his own self-pity to even stand by his side. His broken heart splintered even more when he lifted his head to meet Benny’s welling and glistening eyes._

_“Congratulations, Benny,” Dean tried with a halfhearted smile, and stood up to walk over to Benny._   
_“Save it, Dean. I can’t… I can’t be around you right now.” Benny held out his hand to stop Dean from getting in his space and started walking away. Dean grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back around, being met with a high-pitched, “Stop!” from Benny._

_“Benny, baby, please. Let’s talk. I’m sorry. I got my dates mixed up, I…”_

_“There’s nothing to talk about! It was my big night and you weren’t there! I looked like an idiot sitting among my colleagues around a table and the seat beside me with your name on was empty! I’ve been by your side through everything this year, and I never complain. Why? Because I fucking love you! And…And this is how I’m repaid!” The tears in Benny’s eyes finally spilled over as he broke free of Dean’s hand on his shoulder and walked to the living room, his shoulders shaking with every step. “I know shit has been fucked up for you, Dean, but come on! I have needs too.”_

_Dean contemplated on whether he should follow his husband. He knew Benny needed time to cool down, but he wasn’t there all night when Benny needed him. It was in his best interest to be there for Benny now._

_Benny was sitting on the couch when Dean walked into the living room. Benny had always hated that stupid couch, green and stained and not comfortable in the slightest bit. Dean had always said it had character, but his love for it was mostly because of sentimental value, or something stupid like that. After all, the couch had been in the house that he and Sammy grew up in. All of the happy memories attached to it, from the acrylic paint on the underside of the left cushion from an art project gone wrong, to the stuffing that was being held into the side with a piece of duct tape from when Sam had gotten ahold of one of Dean’s Swiss Army knives. Now, Dean could only see sadness on the couch where his husband sat slouched over, head in his hands and shoulders shaking._

_Dean sat beside Benny and put a hand on his back, attempting to rub soothing circles into the pressed fabric of the dress shirt that was splayed out over Benny’ back. Suddenly, Benny sat up and turned his broken gaze on Dean._

_“It’s been 4 months. All I want is my husband back,” Benny choked._

_Again, Dean felt something inside of him break. He couldn’t find the words to comfort Benny. He knew that he had been a sub-par husband these past few months. He knew he should have been there for Benny the way Benny was always there for him. But, still, no words seemed good enough for Dean to say them – to make things better. Instead, he hung his head in shame._

_“Promise me, Dean,” Benny sighed. Dean knew where this was going. “Promise me that you’ll try to move on. That you’ll try to be better.” Benny was staring at him with pleading eyes. They had had this conversation before._

_“I am trying, Benny.”_

_“I need more than that. I need you to get help.”_

_“I-I can’t. You know that. I can’t let some shrink in my head. I have boundaries that need to be kept for my own well-being.”_

_Benny suddenly stood up and turned to walk into their bedroom. Dean was sat with a swarm of thoughts running so fast through his head, he couldn’t pick out a single one to decipher. Dean heard their bedroom door being locked._

_Dean didn’t mean to, but he fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Hell, sleeping was one of his favorite coping mechanisms, after all. Daylight was peeking through the blinds, letting Dean know that it was early. He didn’t think he had ever woken up before the sun was fully into the sky. Not since his father’s death, anyway._

_Dean stretched and popped his back. Sleeping sitting up had left a gnarly crink in his neck. The apartment was quiet. Benny was probably still asleep. Dean suddenly remembered the night they had. Fuck._

_He quietly padded back into their bedroom. Thankfully, Benny had unlocked the door before he went to sleep. Dean was all ready to climb into bed and press his body into Benny’s side, ready to kiss away the pain of yesterday and return to life as normal._

_Only, Benny was gone. The bed was neatly made but the closet doors were slung open and the dresser drawers were left ajar. The large majority of Benny’s clothes were gone. Dean could feel himself start to panic. He ran to the bathroom and noticed that Benny’s toiletries were gone as well. Had they been robbed? Had Benny been kidnapped?_

_That’s when Dean saw it. A glint of silver on top of a piece of paper folded neatly on the kitchen bar. “No,” Dean whispered to himself, of maybe to God. Dean walked slowly over to it. Just as he suspected, the silver on top of the paper was Benny’s wedding band. The one that Dean had given to him all those years ago. Dean choked out a breath and felt his eyes water as he opened the note._

**_Dean,_ **   
**_I really hate that it’s come to this. I have never stopped loving you_ **   
**_and I doubt that I ever will. But this has gotten to be too much._ **   
**_I’ve got to do what is best for me and, right now, you’re not it._ **   
**_Hell, you’re not even willing to try._ **   
**_I will send someone over to collect the rest of my belongings in the coming_ **   
**_days and I will be in touch soon about next steps. I hope that you are able_ **   
**_to find the closure that you need. It’s just going to have to be_ **   
**_without me._ **   
**_-Benny_ **

  
Dean suddenly felt the sensation of falling, and jerked so hard that he was woke himself up. It had gotten dark since he had fallen asleep. He wiped at the moisture on his cheeks that was starting to be a common thing after he woke up from dreams like this. Except, it hadn’t been a dream. It was real life and Dean was cursed to have it play over and over and over again in his mind until God finally decided that he had been punished enough. Whenever that might be.   



	3. St. Joe Keeps Us Safe

_“Well I spent my whole life saying I’d never need no one but I think I might need you._

_I think I might need you._

_I think I might need you.”_

Dean was sitting upright on the couch, eyes glazed over, staring at nothing. Although he had done nothing but sleep and lay around for the past two weeks, he was completely exhausted. The power had been shut off a few days ago thanks to Dean forgetting to pay the bill. The darkness in the room was threatening to swallow him whole. It was freezing in the apartment. The hole in the drywall seemed to be mocking him. He had to get up and do something before he completely wasted away.

For the first time in days, Dean got up to do something that wasn’t to use the bathroom or eat the remaining crumbs of junk food in the pantry. He walked on wobbly knees to the bedroom where the empty drawers still sat halfway open. The bed was a mess from not having been made since the argument. Dean ignored the empty half of the closet as he pulled on a worn green Henley and a pair of jeans that he couldn’t remember if they were clean or dirty, and a pair of old boots that he would sometimes wear to the garage. He brushed his teeth and attempted to make his hair that was stood up in all directions look somewhat presentable. He pulled on a jacket and, for the first time since his meeting with Anna all those days ago, he left his apartment.

Christmas was quickly approaching and the city knew it as people hurriedly walked down the streets. There was so much Christmas shopping to do and so little time to do it. _Hey, at least I won’t have to buy Benny a present_ , Dean mused bitterly. His hands in his pockets, he shuffled his way towards the station for the LIRR. The dead leaves on the concrete beneath his feet kind of made it sound like someone was walking next to him.

Dean had always loved lazy strolls in the park with Benny. They would get up early on Sunday mornings and walk, taking in all the sights that they had seen a thousand times but still found incredible. They would go to their favorite coffee shop and share an everything bagel. Dean often found himself having to wipe cream cheese off of Benny’s chin. Dean’s chest clenched at the memory.

He only had to wait a few moments before the train to West Babylon was roaring into the station. Dean was going to see his mother. He knew she was probably worried sick about him, especially since he didn’t have a phone to even know how many missed calls from her were just sitting there. He felt guilty about it, but that feeling wasn’t anything new. He felt guilty about everything lately. It was easier to just ignore it instead of letting the heavy feeling sit in his gut.

Dean was quiet on the train. It was crowded, but no more crowded than usual. He was usually a fan of people watching but he opted to just stare out the window instead. It was overwhelming, even though the only thing he really saw outside the train was concrete walls. Hell, after sitting in darkness for two days with hardly any contact with the outside world, damn near everything was overwhelming.

The train screeched to a halt and the doors flew open. People started to file out of the train while others were pushing their way in. Dean got off and sighed. His mother’s home was about a ten-minute walk away. Dean climbed the stairs into the daylight. West Babylon had always been a place where Dean felt at ease. Maybe it was because he associated it with home. Sammy had lived there for a while, too, back before he married Jessica and moved to the upstate. His family had always wondered why Dean had been so eager to get away when he was 18. Looking back, he regretted being that eager. He wished he would have stayed with his mom and dad. He knew they would have loved having him around. He would’ve had more time with his dad. But Dean was ready to experience life in a new way, away from family. He wanted to do it on his own.

And then he met Benny when he was 19. Falling in love with Benny was easy. They fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. Where one of them fell short, the other made up for. They were perfect. Sure, they would argue every now and then, but it was always over something trivial, and they never went to bed mad at each other. They were able to talk everything out and end the night with kisses and snuggles and good sex. Benny would cook and experiment with recipes and Dean was always more than willing to try his latest concoctions. Whenever Benny’s old car would act up, Dean would take it to the garage and have it fixed by the end of the day. They were good. They had a fairytale wedding at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden (Dean thought it was cheesy but Benny insisted). Dean was 24 and Benny was 25. Dean never would have guessed that they would fall apart only 4 years later. Dean never would have guessed that their downfall would be completely his fault.

Dean walked up the driveway to his mother’s house. His dad’s old car was still sitting in the yard. It was covered up by he could still see the crisp edges underneath of the 1967 Impala. His dad used to take him and Sam to baseball games in that car. He couldn’t count on two hands the number of times he had dropped chili from his hotdogs on the floorboard. His dad had always smiled at the mess and he would tell them that the stains were something to remember the day by.

Sam’s Prius was also there. Fuck, Dean didn’t want to have to explain everything to Sam, too. He was supposed to be the strong big brother that paved the way for his snot-nosed little brother. He couldn’t bear the thought of Sammy seeing him at the lowest point he’s ever hit.

Dean had barely knocked on the front door before it was swinging open and his mother was squeezing him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Jesus, Dean, where have you been? You’ve had me worried sick,” Mary said. There was a slight waver in her voice like she was holding back tears. Sam was standing behind her, his eyebrows pressed together but Dean could tell he was relieved.

“Hey, mom. Sammy.” Dean kissed his mother on the cheek and nodded at Sam. “Can I come in? I’ve, uh, I need you.”

Mary stepped aside so that Dean could enter. Sam gave him a brotherly slap on the shoulder and they all filed into the kitchen to sit around the table. Mary began brewing a pot of coffee. Dean instantly felt at home, but he kept his eyes focused on the patterns in the wood grain of the table. He could feel Sam looking at him but he wouldn’t acknowledge him. Mary sat down his coffee prepared just the way he liked – two sugars and a drop of cream. She sat down and put a hand on Dean’s forearm.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

Dean sucked in a deep breath. He was scared. His mother was a devout Catholic… “A soldier of God” is what she would refer to herself as. The house was filled with paintings of Jesus and statues of Saints. Hell, there was a statue of Saint Joseph buried in the backyard because their mother told them he would keep them safe. Dean could hardly believe that his mother had been fine with her first-born son being bisexual and marrying a man. Dean figured that her son being a divorced bisexual man would send her over the edge. Still, Dean needed his mother. He needed her love.

Dean grit his teeth. “Benny left me. He’s calling lawyers. He’s done with me.” He could feel his eyes brimming with tears and Sam inhaled sharply.

“Shit, Dean.”

Mary cast a glare in Sam's direction because of his expletive language and Sam, though he would never admit it, cowered slightly. Dean sighed, “I know things ain’t been good since dad died. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot and I should’ve called sooner but, mom, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m breaking and it feels like there’s no light in the dark.” Dean would have continued but his voice broke and all of the pain and sadness came spilling out of him. Fuck, he felt like a baby, but his mother had tightened her grip around his arm and Dean was able to use the sensation to ground himself.

“I know this year has been hard for you.” Mary wiped away a tear from Dean’s stubbled cheek. “It’s been hard for everyone. Son, look at me, we haven’t ever been this low before, have we? No matter what, though, I am always in your corner.”

“Yeah, Dean. We love you. We would’ve had your back. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Sam asked, looking at Dean like a sad puppy.

“I didn’t want to worry you guys. Things have just been so _hard_ lately. I didn’t know what to do.”

Sam stood up and wrapped Dean in a hug from behind. “I’m sorry, man. What can we do?”

Dean melted into Sam’s embrace and closed his eyes. He had always been the one to take care of and comfort Sam when their parents weren’t around. It was nice to know that his brother was able to return the favor. Mary stood up and walked out of the kitchen. Dean watched her go but didn’t say anything. Sam was the one who broke the silence.

“What’re you gonna _do_? You know you’re more than welcome to come stay with me and Jess in Boston. We can hang out like we used to.”

Dean shook his head. “I’ll live, I guess. I don’t want to bother you guys. Especially with Jess being on the night shift at the hospital. And you finishing up your law school stuff. I would feel bad taking up space on your couch…again.”

Sam laughed. “You know you love that couch.”

Dean groaned remembering all the times he had slept on Sam and Jess’s couch after petty arguments early in his and Benny’s relationship, back when they still lived in the area. The damn thing had fucked Dean’s back up for two weeks. He could barely bend over cars at the garage. Hell, he could barely bend over for the makeup sex! Dean suddenly remembered that there probably wasn’t going to be any makeup sex this time. A new wave of sadness jolted through him.

Mary reentered the kitchen with a determined look on her face. “Son, I love you. And you know I’d be more than happy to have you stay with me for a little bit. But I don’t think that’s what you need. Neither is staying in your apartment where you’re surrounded by all things you and Benny.” She paused. Dean could see her chin quiver. She grabbed his hand and Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he felt the cold metal keys being pressed into his palm. “Take the car and run.”

Dean knew exactly what she meant.


	4. Runnin' Scared

" _Oh, while I wouldn't quite call it homesick_

_But I keep seeing your face in the northbound traffic."_

Dean’s hands shook as he pulled to the front of his apartment building. He was going on a road trip with no warning, by himself, with no destination in mind. Fuck, he thought. I really am losing it. He lit up a smoke before going inside, letting it fill his lungs until he felt himself calm down slightly. If Benny could see him now, he would probably nag Dean about smoking.

_“Your coughing fits keep me up at night, Dean. I need to sleep.”_

It was a habit he had picked up from his dad. When he was 14 he snuck out of the house into the backyard at 2 in the morning and lit one of his dad’s cigarettes with a lighter he found on the sidewalk on his walk home from school earlier that week. To his surprise, John came out right after he started coughing from his first puff. John shook his head but huffed a laugh and took the cigarette from Dean and bringing it to his own lips. Dean was scared John would be mad about him smoking, but that fizzled once John handed the cigarette back to Dean. They passed it back and forth until it reached the end. John stomped it out on the ground and picked the butt back up, locking eyes with Dean and passing a silent understanding.  
_“Don’t tell mom.”_

  
A duffle bag was thrown onto the bed that was still untouched since Benny left. Dean wasn’t sure where he was going or when he was coming home so he figured it would be wise to pack for a variety of different climates. Underwear, socks, flip-flops, boots, t-shirts, and flannels were all stuffed into the dingy bag. (He later realized he forgot all of his toiletries). Taking one last look at the apartment in shambles he was leaving behind, he closed the door and made his way down to the car. 

* * *

  
Dean pulled onto the highway in felt the muscles in his shoulders relax for the first time in weeks. Driving the Impala had always made him feel closer to his dad, and when he turned 16, his dad woke him up at 6:30 in the morning and took him to get his drivers’ license, making him drive all over town just because he could. 

  
Dean let his mind wander as much as he could while still paying attention to the road. He seemed to be stuck on a memory. Their first 4th of July together. They were all in Mary and John’s backyard: John, Mary, Sam, Jessica, Dean, and Benny. They were definitely more than a few beers in before the fireworks started popping in the various neighborhoods around the house. 

  
Dean remembered taking Sammy out to an open field to shoot off illegal fireworks when they were kids. The look of joy that shone through Sam’s trepidation at their activity made this one of Dean’s favorite memories with his little brother.

  
Benny was dancing to whatever was on the radio. Dean couldn’t remember what song it was because he was too busy staring at his then-boyfriend. Benny had a big dopey grin on his face as he danced around barefoot with a sparkler in his hands. He wore a plain white t-shirt and his favorite pair of jeans rolled up around the ankles. Silhouetted by the porch lights and swatting at the bugs with his sparkler, he twirled a laughing Jessica Moore around.

  
Dean could feel the tension rolling off of Sam as he watched his girlfriend dance with another man, which Dean obviously found hilarious.

  
“Dude. He’s gay,” Dean had said around another sip of beer.

  
Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I’m aware. That doesn’t mean Jess isn’t attracted to him.”

  
Dean rolled his eyes. His little brother had always been the jealous type. Dean thought it was because it wasn’t really a secret who his father’s favorite was. That’s not to say that John didn’t love Sam. There was just that non-spoken special bond between their father and the first-born son. Sam tried hard to get the same attention out of their father that Dean got. He got good grades, he was an excellent soccer player, and he was endlessly kind. 

  
But Sam didn’t want to watch John change the oil on the Impala. He didn’t want to sit there and watch a Bills game while John explained all of the plays. And he definitely didn’t care to sit with John while he cleaned his guns and told stories about all of the hunting trips he went on as a child. 

  
But Dean did. Everything John did, Dean was right at his heels. Even when John would mess up or get them into trouble with Mary for being out too late on a school night. Loyal to a fault, one might say. 

  
Dean saw his dad kiss his mother on her cheek before she opened the screen door to go back into the house. Sam had rounded up Jess and they were staring up at the sky trying to see fireworks from where they were being shot off at the beach. Benny was still dancing in the yard. 

  
“I like him. You do, too.” John laid a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder.

  
“Yessir, I do,” Dean felt himself blush and he hoped it was dark enough outside that his father wouldn’t notice.

  
“Do you love him?”

  
“I…I think I might,” Dean said. John’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

  
“Don’t lose him then. Do what you’ve gotta do to make it last.” 

  
Dean looked out at Benny again, oblivious to the world around him and dancing way offbeat, not that Dean would ever rain on his parade by telling him. 

* * *

  
The sound of a horn blowing in the northbound traffic shook Dean back to the present. He looked, trying to find the 16-wheeler responsible for pulling him out of his daydream and he could have sworn he saw Benny’s face in the traffic. 

  
Dean felt his chest tighten. Benny used to be happy with him. With his family. And Dean had completely ignored his father’s advice. He didn’t do what he had to do and it didn’t last. And that’s on Dean’s shoulders. 

Dean didn’t realize how fucking cold it was until he crossed the state line into northern Virginia. He cursed the dashboard heat in the car that had gone out right before his dad died and he hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. A mistake that was not majorly biting him in the ass.   
He had been driving for 7 hours and he was fucking exhausted. He was stretched out in the backseat of the Impala with his winter coat on top of him as a makeshift blanket. The lights from the shady truck stop shone through the windows, but hopefully, Dean’s body heat would make the windows start to fog so he could rest. He didn’t want to waste the cash he had brought with him yet. 

  
Dean wanted to feel the sun warm his face and pick flowers. Day-lilies, Benny’s favorites. He was going to hold onto them until he saw Benny again. He was going to use them to promise that things would be better in the future. He made a final decision.

  
Dean Winchester was going to Georgia. Then he was coming back home. 


End file.
